


Paws, Unpaws

by levendis



Series: Prompt Fics [53]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Coitus Interruptus, Comedy, F/M, Light Dom/sub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 11:55:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6050710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levendis/pseuds/levendis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This could be a cat-astrophe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paws, Unpaws

**Author's Note:**

> for dreameater1988, who requested: Clara has a pet cat on the TARDIS and the Doctor and Clara want to get together for sexy times but the cat keeps interrupting

“Gods above,” Clara breathes. “What I want to do to you right now.”

She shoves the Doctor onto the mattress, halfway through his interminable boot-removal routine. He goes easily, more than a little clumsily. The remaining boot yanked off and tossed across the room. Fuck foreplay, she just wants him inside her - his t-shirt pulled off rough enough to leave his hair standing on end, her skirt hiked up over her hips. She straddles him and grinds down hard, biting that spot on his neck that’s been teasing her all day, fumbling at his belt buckle.

And then the alarm bell goes off in her head.   


She stills. Something is here. Here, in the TARDIS, their inner sanctum, while the two of them are - distracted. And vulnerable. The Doctor takes the opportunity to take the upper hand - it’s rare enough, she can’t fault him - unhooking her bra and going straight for the nipple-tweak. She never should have admitted how useless that particular move makes her.

“Stop,” she hisses, batting his hands away. “Seriously. Red light. Something’s up.”

“Something aside from the usual, you mean?” He wriggles his eyebrows, then his hips, in case she hadn’t caught the innuendo.

“Shush.” She quickly scans the room for weapons.

From the doorway comes a low, mechanical rumble. “Humans,” something says in a robotic tone.

Slowly, cautiously, every nerve in her body singing, every muscle tense, she sits up on the bed, brandishing a dildo. “Come out and face me,” she yelled.

The door creaks open. And from the shadows emerges -

“Professor Fluffington?” She grips the dildo tighter, arms back for a swing.

“Human! Similar-to-human!” Professor Fluffington bounds over and jumps up onto the bed.

The Doctor shifts uncomfortably below her. “I might have forgotten to mention-”

“The cat is talking.” She stares wild-eyed at the Doctor, and then at Professor Fluffington, and then back at the Doctor. “Cats don’t talk.”

“Of _course_ cats talk. The TARDIS just can’t translate them. So I made a - it’s, um - I got bored, alright?”

If her eyes could shoot lasers they would be shooting lasers right now. He cringes, and shrugs, and cringes again as she boops him on the nose with the dildo.

“It’s a very complex and impressive bit of tech,” he says, melodramatically massaging his not-even-a-little-bit-wounded schnozz. “Cat is notoriously difficult to translate into human.”

Professor Fluffington is trying her very best to nudge between them. “Hi. Hi. Hello. Hey there. Hey, hi. Hello? Hello?” The tiny speaker and duct-taped wad of circuit boards and wires dangling from her collar.

Clara pushes the cat away gently. “Yes. Very impressive.”

“Hello. Human? Look at me. Look at me, look.” The cat turns around and lifts her tail. “Look at my arsehole. Look at it.”

The Doctor grins and gestures, like _hey! What can you do. You try your best and sometimes, at the end of the day, you’ve invented a neural interface for your pet that your friend sadly does not appreciate._

She glares at him again and then scoops the cat up under her arm, trying to avoid the claws while still holding on to it in its liquid state.

“INAPPROPRIATE,” Professor Fluffington yelps. “NO.”

“Yes,” Clara says, and deposits the cat into the hallway, slamming the door shut.

She can hear the cat yelling, muffled through the bulkhead. “I WILL DESTROY YOU. I WILL DESTROY YOU ALL.”

Wheeling around, hands on her hips, her best stern expression and voice in place: “You need to tell me when you do something like that.”

He’s got sense enough at least to look apologetic. “The mood’s been lost, then.”

“No,” she says, stalking towards him. “Not lost. Changed, certainly. There’s something _else_ I want to do to you now.”

She leans over him, grabs his wrists; he lifts his arms obligingly, breathes in sharply, as she tightens her grip. A blissful look on his face.

“You can’t just do something stupid whenever you want this,” she says, rocking her hips hard against his.

“No ma'am. Sorry. Won’t - ah - won’t do it again. Promise.”

He’ll do it again, almost certainly. She shifts his wrists into a one-hand hold, her free hand squeezing his face. “You berk,” she says, mostly fondly.

She tries, and mostly succeeds, to ignore the robotic whinging filtering in through the wall. _HELLO GIANT IDIOTS I AM HUNGRY PAY ATTENTION -_


End file.
